by Jen Blood
He pushed a fistful of cash toward Jack. Though they were reasonably insulated from others, people were definitely beginning to take note.
“Sit back down,” Jack said. “My retainer is $1,000, then it’s $200 plus expenses per hour. We can draw up a contract with a cap on those expenses when we get back to the office.”
“Whatever,” Bear said, waving off the details. “I just want you to get started. It’s totally nuts at Nancy’s place. Who knows what you’ve missed already.”
Bear handed off the retainer, waving off Jack’s offer of a receipt, and agreed to meet him at the Davis home in an hour.
By this time, the sun was high in the sky. Jack had already removed his sports jacket, and now rolled up his shirt sleeves. He’d grown up in Miami—at least, he had for the portion of his childhood he remembered, beginning at thirteen years old. Warmth here was a whole different animal, but one he welcomed regardless. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to Maine winters. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to.
“I’ll need to be out with the dogs looking for Albie for most of the day and night, if nobody’s found him yet,” Bear said as they parted. “I’m also coordinating with our vet on the island to make sure we’re taking as many animals as we can out there, at least until we can find them permanent placements. But you have my cell number. Just call if you have questions. If I’m not in range, I’ll check back as soon as I can.”
“I’ll reach you if I need to,” Jack said, unable to hide how impressed he was at the young man’s comport. “You’re doing good work. I’m happy to help any way I can.”
They shook hands and Jack stood by for a moment watching Bear walk away. He strode forward without looking around him, seemingly oblivious to everything but whatever was waiting dead ahead. Jack took a breath, trying to shake the feeling he’d had earlier that something here wasn’t right. Bear was keeping something from him, he was sure of it. What it was and how it related to the job Jack had been hired to do, only time would tell.
Chapter 6
“SO, WHO ELSE ARE WE MISSING?” I asked Bear wearily. It was nearly three in the afternoon. Bear was covered in grass stains and what looked like a smear of blood on his left cheek, but he looked a lot more energized than I felt at the moment.
“I haven’t been able to find Cash yet,” he said. “You know, that old one-eared tomcat? Haven’t seen him anywhere.”
“He probably headed for the hills,” I said. “We’ll have the volunteers keep an eye out for him, and spread the word that he’s missing.”
“I’ve been looking for the Newfoundland,” Hank Williams said. He’d remained on scene helping with the animals for the duration of this operation. So far, his knowledge of the place and the animals on it had been invaluable. “Cody.”
“Monty caught him about an hour ago,” I said. “We sent him out to the island with the last group.”
“And he’s okay?” Hank asked.
“Scared, mangy, and on the thin side. But in better shape than a lot of them,” Bear said.
Hank nodded. “Sure, sure. Yeah, nobody here had it easy.” He hesitated. “You know what you’re going to do with all those dogs? I mean, once they’re cleaned up and whatever? You’ll probably want to find homes for them…”
“Are you interested in adopting the Newfie?”
He smiled, and I was surprised at the emotion in his eyes. Not completely, of course—dogs can make the most stalwart among us go a little misty.
“I could fill out an application or whatever. I haven’t had a dog in a few years, but I used to have one that’d go on the boat with me when I was out fishing. I think Cody might like that kind of thing.”
“I’ll talk to Tracy,” I said. “She’ll get you an application, and we’ll need to run some tests on the dog to make sure he’s healthy. As long as he is and there are no hitches with your application, I’m sure we can work something out.”
“Good,” he said, with an abrupt nod. “I feel terrible about what happened here—both with Nancy dying and everything that came before. I know she loved the animals in her way, just didn’t have the money to take care of ’em, or sense enough to turn them away. I know she’d be happy knowing they’re being taken care of now.”
I looked around the dilapidated old house and the muddied front yard. We’d been working hard all day long, and I’d had little time to talk to Bear about any of this. I wondered if he had seen Nancy’s spirit anywhere here over the course of the day. I’d have to carve out a little down time later to ask him.
“That’s it, then,” I said. “We’ll come back in the—”
“Jamie!” a voice called. A voice that sounded a lot like Jack’s. Which was confusing, since I hadn’t even realized he was here. Not only that, but it sounded like he was calling from somewhere beneath my feet.
“Jack? Where are you?” I called back, walking toward the sound of his voice.
“Down here,” he called back. “The basement.”
Honestly baffled, I walked to the edge of the house and lay down on my stomach in the muck, then peered beneath a sizable gap under the back porch. The smell was rancid, a combination of rotting garbage and dog crap, disease and waste. It was too dark to see a thing, so I shone my flashlight below. Jack blinked in the glare and looked away, while a pair of yellow eyes glowed from his arms.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“He came and got me,” he said, nodding toward the yellow eyes. I adjusted the light, and found Cash settled in Jack’s arms.
“What do you mean, he came and got you?” I asked. “In Rockland?” It had been a long day; at this point there wasn’t much that would have surprised me.
“I heard that something happened and you could maybe use a hand,” he said briefly. “Once I got here, the cat found me and led me here when I tried to catch him. You talk to dead people. Don’t make fun of me because a cat came to me for help.”
As he was speaking, a tiny, plaintive mew floated up to me, followed by a chorus of more of the same. Cash answered with a trilling Prrrt before he looked back at Jack and me.
“There’s a litter of kittens down here,” Jack explained. “Five of them. They’re skinny, and I don’t see any sign of the mom.”
Bear had said some cats had been killed here recently; these babies could well have been orphaned victims of that violence. Cash stood and butted his big head against Jack while the kittens continued their plaintive mewing.
“Bring them out,” I said, after only a moment’s thought. “We’ll send them to the shelter with Cash, and see what we can do from there.”
Jack didn’t move, though I could make out just enough now to see the horror on his face at the suggestion. “Hang on,” he said. “First… There’s another problem down here.”
Of course there was. I couldn’t even imagine what that problem might be, but the number of them stacking up around us was starting to get overwhelming.
“What problem?” I asked.
He hesitated. “There are bones down here.”
“There are bones everywhere,” I said. “The place is like a pet cemetery—they just forgot to bury most of the bodies.”
“This isn’t a pet.”
“What do you mean, it isn’t a pet?”
“They’re human, Jamie,” he said. A touch of impatience touched his voice. Like I should just assume Nancy Davis had people rotting in her basement. “There are human remains down here. At least a couple of them, possibly more.”
I was stunned into silence.
“Hey,” I heard Bear say behind me. “What’s going on? Monty and I have the trailer loaded up again, but I couldn’t find you. Can we go or what?”
I raised a hand, index finger up to indicate I needed a minute. Bear crouched down and peered into the opening below the house with me.
“Hey, Jack,” he said. If he was surprised, I heard no trace of it in his voice. “Is that Cash you’ve got there?”
“Yeah,” Jack said. The kittens
started up again, jolting me out of my brief inaction. If we were going to save them, we needed to move now.
“Hand the kittens up here,” I said to Jack. “And Cash, if you can get him. Bear, let Tracy know we have another tom and five sick kittens. And then go get Sheriff Finnegan.”
“What do we need Sheriff Finnegan for, for five sick kittens and a barn cat?” Bear asked.
“Never mind,” I said wearily.
“So they’ll take Cash to the shelter, then?” Jack asked. So far, he hadn’t moved.
“That’s the plan. They’ll test him for distemper and FIV, and then maybe someone will take him for the barn cat program.”
“He doesn’t like being a barn cat, though,” Jack said.
“Did he tell you that?”
“Very funny. I can just tell. He likes people too much—if he could be inside, he would.” He paused. “What about the kittens?”
Saving orphaned kittens is notoriously difficult in animal rescue. Upper respiratory infections sweep through cat colonies like this, with the most vulnerable members of the colony succumbing within a matter of days.
“Jack—”
“I was thinking maybe we could get Cash tested, and he could come home with me,” he said, cutting me off. “Cats are allowed in my building,” he added hastily.
“We’ll talk to Tracy,” I said. “For now, though, you need to get those kittens out of there.”
This time, Jack complied. He handed up the first kitten: a little orange thing that, despite Jack’s description, actually seemed to be in good health. He was a little on the thin side, but his blue eyes were wide and clear, the coat surprisingly clean. Based on the weight, I was guessing Mom hadn’t been around for feeding for only a couple of days, and Cash had taken good care of the grooming side of things.
Another orange kitten followed, this one purring loudly as I pulled it into the daylight. Cash hopped out of the hole and wound his way around me anxiously, watching my every move.
“It’s okay, buddy,” I reassured him, as Jack handed off two tabby-colored fluff balls. “We’ll take good care of them.”
The last kitten was all black, and came up hissing and spitting like a little wild thing as I took him from Jack’s hands. With this one, Cash came over just as I was wrangling the little monster into the cat carrier. He bumped against me, purring loudly, and then butted his head gently against the kitten. Instantly, the little guy settled. Cash licked his head, still purring. As if by magic, the kitten stilled.
“Good boy, Cash,” I said. “Thanks for the help.”
I stood, brushing myself off, and then reached down to offer Jack a hand.
“I’ll go back around,” he said. “The squeeze is a little too tight for me. I’ll meet you out front.”
#
“What do you mean, there are more bodies?” Sheriff Finnegan asked a few minutes later, scratching his head. He looked beat, and not at all happy at this latest news.
“Jack said one or two—”
“Three, actually,” Jack corrected me, inserting himself into the conversation. He was covered in dirt and cobwebs from head to foot, and he smelled like he’d been nesting in a garbage dump. “That I could see. Where’s Cash? And the kittens?”
“With Tracy. She’s trying to find a foster placement for the kittens. The fact that they’re as healthy as they are actually makes it harder. We need to find a place where they won’t be exposed to any illness.”
“I was thinking maybe I—”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Sheriff Finnegan said, “but can we get back to the three bodies in the cellar?”
“At least,” Jack said. “Some could be buried, I suppose. These looked like...” He hesitated, unmistakably uncomfortable. “It looks like they died down there.”
The sheriff swore under his breath, shaking his head. “The Staties will love that. How much more do you need to do to clear the animals out?”
I surveyed the landscape. The house was now clear—at least as far as we could tell—and so was the dog barn. The barn that held the remaining cats had been emptied as much as anyone could manage, but I was sure we would keep finding cats here for the next month. Maybe longer. The farmyard, likewise, had been emptied. It had taken ten hours to get everyone, but it would take years to address the scars some of these animals carried from the situation Nancy had put them in.
“We’re just about done,” I said. “No more dogs that we’ve found. The police can safely start going through everything.”
“Safe is a relative term,” Sheriff Finnegan replied gravely. “Maybe we don’t have to worry about being attacked, but we’ll need Hazmat suits to wade through this mess.”
I looked around again, at the sea of filth and waste and decay around us. “You’re not wrong.”
As the sheriff walked away to address the bodies in the basement, I noticed a small, timid-looking man who stood on the sidelines with his hands clasped in front of him. He was speaking to Barbara Monroe, who stood beside him in a crisp summer dress. Her blond hair was pulled back in a chignon as sleek as silk.
When he caught my eye, the man raised his hand hesitantly and stepped toward me. “Excuse me.”
When he turned to face me fully, I did a double take. Albie. Or an older, cleaner version of him, anyway.
“Yes?” I said.
He excused himself from Barbara, somewhat reluctantly I thought, and crossed the police line to reach me.
“You’re Jamie Flint?” he asked.
“I am. You must be Fred—Nancy’s oldest son?”
He nodded. He looked exhausted, and thoroughly beaten. “Yes. I came as soon as I heard. You’re working on the search for my brother?”
“No,” I said, with a shake of my head. “Right now I’m working with the Humane Society. We’re rounding up the animals. A lot of them escaped in the night.”
Anger flickered in his eyes for just a moment, then vanished. “Right. God forbid we forget about the animals.”
“I can understand your frustration, but most of the animals who were living here are in critical condition thanks to your mother’s neglect. This isn’t a problem we created.”
“I know that,” he said, his voice softer. “Trust me, I do. I’d been pushing for months to figure something out with them.”
“Yeah. I guess evicting her was one way to do it,” I said. Lack of sleep and a day of rounding up animals who may well not survive this had made me testy; I couldn’t keep the disapproval from my words. “I know all about it. Maybe if you had—”
“If I had what, Ms. Flint?” he cut me off. “I’d love to hear your ideas. God knows I tried everything I could think of. My pleas fell on deaf ears. I tried bribery; tried threats; tried getting professionals involved. All those professionals did was step in and make this place exactly habitable enough to be deemed safe—barely—for my brother and the animals who lived here. Do you have any idea what it’s like, living in a place where the best you can say about it is, ‘Well, at least it hasn’t been condemned yet’?”
For the first time that day, I thought of things from this man’s perspective. What would Bear do, if God forbid I put him in a situation like this? What would anyone?
“I’m sorry,” I said, as earnestly as I could manage. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. It’s easy for me to sit in judgment, but I know how difficult your mother could be.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. I just…” He shook his head wearily. “I was at my wit’s end. Our father left us rather than stay in this place. My fiancée took off without so much as a note, while we were here trying to get things back on track. God knows what’s happened to my brother.”
I thought of the remains in the basement. If Fred Davis thought things were bad now…
“Have you had a chance to talk to the police yet?” I asked.
“No. Ms. Monroe caught me as soon as I drove in, and then I spotted you.”
He surveyed the scene, taking in
the police cars and crime scene van beside the house. With the animals gone, there was a haunted air about the place.
“It seems like a lot of fuss for something that…” He hesitated, realization dawning on his face. “I assumed my mother had a heart attack—she’s been on medication for years. Am I wrong about that? How did she die, exactly?”
“You should probably go find the sheriff,” I said, as gently as I could.
He looked at me sharply, recognizing something in my tone. A fresh wave of alarm registered in his eyes. “Of course,” he said numbly. “Excuse me.”
I watched him go, surprised at just how much my heart went out to the man. Then, I looked around and forced another deep breath. Rats scuttled from garbage heap to garbage heap in plain sight, taking their chances now that there were no predators to keep them away. A stench that felt like it had soaked into the very ground itself rose up around me, and I wondered if it would ever truly go away.
I shook my head, squared my shoulders, and got back to work. I’d made little progress before Jack materialized beside me, in a way that had begun to feel almost natural.
“Was that the other son you were talking to?” he asked.
“It is. I’d turned him into a devil based on Nancy’s stories and her situation, but I can’t imagine what he’s going through right now.”
“No,” Jack agreed. “It seems pretty devastating. And I think it’s about to get worse.”
I glanced at him. “What—the bodies in the basement?”
“Yeah… That too,” he said briefly, averting his gaze.
“Meaning?” He didn’t say anything for a second. I raised an eyebrow and ushered him well out of hearing range of anyone else.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nancy’s apparent heart attack?” Jack said, his voice low.
“Yes?”
“They’ve officially released a statement—it was an attack, but it didn’t have anything to do with her heart.”
“Someone killed her?” Against my will, Albie’s face flashed in my mind.
“Yes. Any thoughts on who it might have been?” he asked.